


Parsel-Mage

by hitman619



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus Harry Potter, F/M, Metamorphmagus Harry Potter, Older Woman/Younger Man, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-22 04:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30033366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitman619/pseuds/hitman619
Summary: What if story. What if Rita Skeeter heard the rumours about Harry's Parseltongue early on and asked about it during their interview for an exclusive. How would this have affected Harry? Fourth Year AU. Harry/Multi.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger, Harry Potter/Multi, Harry Potter/Rita Skeeter
Comments: 34
Kudos: 78





	1. The Interview

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer- I don’t own Harry Potter, JKR does, but I sure wish I did…  
> 4th year AU... Starts with Rita Skeeter’s interview. Smut. Harry/Multi… BAMF Harry Potter, or rather Harry eventually becomes a BAMF, so does Hermione. Animagus Harry… Metamorph Harry…

* * *

**_13 th November 1994-_ **

‘Magic’ was dependent on ‘Intent’. And Intent was always emotional. Accidental magic was often triggered by the heightened emotional response of a witch or wizard who lacked adequate control of their magic but can exhibit raw amounts of magic in abundance. And control over magic was subtly tied to emotions, an enraged wizard or a witch tend to overpower their spells with magic, and a shy counterpart may often underperform similarly. Spell incantations in Latin and wand movements merely helped fuel one part of the magic, the moulding and controlling part of the magic.

The interview Rita needed the most hadn’t gone well. Cedric Diggory, Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour were consistent, they were clever, witty and charming, hence she had hoped Harry Potter would be the exception due to his young age, in other words, a juicy exclusive. It had begun well, but then the boy had decided to become tight-lipped to her questions when her Quick-Quotes Quill had started improvising on the flow to her thoughts.

Normally, she would have simply written whatever she wished to write, but she had questions she needed confirmations to, if not direct answers. There were rumours, unbelievable rumours. She very well could not claim that Harry Potter was a Parselmouth if it was completely untrue and risk Harry Potter or his guardian suing her for libel. Accusing someone of being a Parselmouth was not as simple as claiming that they were attention-seeking brats. Being a Parselmouth was the sign of a Dark Wizard and it indicated a person’s affinity towards the Dark Arts. If she accused someone as famous as Harry Potter of being a dark wizard without the _hard-undeniable proof_ , her editor most likely would not run the story, and even if it did run, moreover there would be a severe backlash among her fans. She would not risk her credibility for an exclusive.

And so, she decided to coerce the boy to loosen his lips. And seduction was her tool of choice. The boy was fourteen, very inexperienced, and frankly speaking, very uncomfortable to be at the centre of attention. Famous, yet positively uncomfortable with his fame. Coercing young Potter would have been difficult with false promises and sweet words. It would have only frightened the boy. She needed something drastic to stun the boy into shock, and then help him go along with the pleasure.

And that’s how it had come to pass. She had slowly scooted next to him and had taken the boy’s average-sized cock in her hand and started giving him a handjob, to loosen his tongue. A classic technique that she has employed a number of times to coerce Ministry workers over a few drinks. The promise of sex often made people vulnerable to manipulation. The boy had stiffened and stared at her at first, but had quickly succumbed to her lustful ministrations. After all raging hormones were not something that was under the control of a boy his age. And then she had questioned him. To which, she had gotten answers, clear answers.

The silencing charms and privacy charms on the closet kept unwanted attention away while she milked the boy literally and figuratively out of all the information that she sorely wanted. It didn’t take long as she teased him, coercing out of him all the answers. The event about Quirinus Quirrell, the Chamber of Secrets incident, the boy was unusually reluctant about Sirius Black, but it didn’t matter, she had more than information for two articles. She could always visit again and coerce the matter about Black, out of him at her leisure, she was in no hurry.

It would have been cruel to leave him like this, leaving without giving him the pleasure of release. She undid the spell that kept him from cumming and she wanked his cock harder, his breaths grew shallower and shallower, she knew his climax was imminent. In a rush of power that she felt from the control she had over ‘the Harry Potter’, she asked in a teasing smugness, “Say my name in Parseltongue, Harry.”

Unaware of the consequences, Harry with his eyes closed, leaned in instinctively until his lips were touching the skin behind her ear, _“Shaisak Seisaren…” _Harry hissed her name in Parseltongue.

Magic was the intent. Emotionally stunted as he was, woefully inexperienced in the ways of physical intimacy, and starved of physical affection all his life, Harry had mistaken physical pleasure for love. And Harry was capable of giving great love. Fuelled by the magical language of the Serpents, the name he uttered had become the target of his magic. Harry’s potent magic had attacked her, the strength dormant in him that he sometimes managed to tap into, such as when powering a full-corporeal Patronus to drive out hundreds of Dementors away at only thirteen. Rarely seen, but still very much present within him. She could do nothing but fall prey to it. Rita didn’t even feel it. The effect was instantaneous.

Rita however felt the effects, her knickers dampened, and her lust skyrocketed. Suddenly, she found herself very much attracted to Harry Potter. In a quick instant of bad judgement, she decided to claim the boy’s virginity. Unaware of the danger that she was walking into, that she was invoking dark magic from within Harry.

Rita stopped her ministrations, making him whine, she quickly stood up and turned, sitting in front of him on the small desk, banishing the things on the desk with a wave of her wand. This reminded of her own days in Hogwarts when she remembered taking two Slytherin boys into broom closet where they had doubled teamed her from the back and the front, good memories.

Harry sat there staring at her cluelessly, his member sticking out of his trousers, still throbbing painfully. Seeing his look, Rita said with a predatory smile, “Eat me, Harry.” She parted her legs in front of him, placing them on both the sides of his thighs, trapping him, while lifting her green leather robes, and removing her knickers to give him unimpeded access to her cunt.

Harry only had an inkling of what to do, never having had ‘the talk’ from an adult, he was completely unprepared for this. But as a Gryffindor, not one to back from a challenge, he eagerly closed in on her, burying his face in between her thighs, making her moan. He used his tongue to lick her slit, remembering what he had read from one of George’s magazines in the Quidditch locker room.

“Higher,” Rita said softly, grinning at the boy’s inexperience. Harry immediately went higher to the top portion of her snatch and continued licking at her.

“Higher.” Rita guided him again until he reached her clit, and when he got the meaning and began giving long licks on the hood of her clit, “Yes, right there.”

Harry learned the art on the fly, picking up Rita’s twitches and moans, his senses heightened by the Parseltongue magic swirling around them. Using Parseltongue on her clit had the desired effect. It didn’t take long, five minutes was all it took for the magic to affect Rita’s senses, clouding her mind as an orgasm broke through her. She clenched her legs around his neck, keeping his mouth rooted on her snatch as he lapped at her juices.

Neither noticed it, Harry’s magic and Rita’s magic merging around them, as lust heightened again, making it impossible for them to think. What they were experiencing may have felt like euphoria for them, but what they were really involved in was accidental dark magic unique to Parselmouth wizards and witches.

“I need you!” Rita growled at Harry who was half-conscious.

“Yes!” He yelped as he stood up.

No more words were said, as Rita guided Harry to her snatch. Rita placed her wand on his cock non-verbally putting an Engorgement spell on it for her pleasure, given her mastery at self-transfiguration and human transfiguration, she did it with great efficiency. The penis had no bone, the risk of causing physical harm was inexistent, the tender organ was much easier to transform than the other parts of the body. It was for her own pleasure, a fourteen-year-old’s cock would not satisfy her.

Harry didn’t even notice the change; his glasses had fallen; he was functioning on instinct. Harry simply thrust inside on instinct the moment Rita had placed the tip of his cock on her slit. What followed was the four minutes of rapid pounding, during which she demanded, “Say my name in Parseltongue!”

And Harry did as commanded, “ _Shaisak Seisaren… Shaisak Seisaren… Shaisak Seisaren…_ ” Repeating her name as he thrust into her repeatedly, each time the Parseltongue-fuelled-magic increasing in effect, until she climaxed as her senses overloaded with magic.

Her orgasm caused her to straddle his hips, while her walls squeezed his cock to painful levels, making him thrust in one last time and hold it in, as he cummed inside her, painting her womb with his seed.

What happened next was unknown magic, something neither one knew or could have scarcely anticipated. Rita’s magic was almost fully drained within an instant, making her eyes roll to the back as she fell backwards on the desk, unconscious in exhaustion. Meanwhile, Harry’s entire body went stiff as he slowly lost consciousness and fell back on the bench, his body going limp.

In the minutes, they were unconscious, Rita’s womb moved as something emerged from within her stretched-out cunt. The head of a full black snake with red eyes, born out of Harry’s seed and Rita’s magic, born out of dark Parsel-magic. As more and more the snake emerged, Rita moaned in pleasure in her cataleptic state. The full-grown snake fell on the floor below and slithered towards an unconscious Harry, climbing up his leg and biting him in the thigh, sinking its fangs into his skin. Its venom making the bite mark close up and the skin around the wound turn green. The moment the snake bit him and the venom seeped into his blood, the snake fell to the ground dead, convulsing a few minutes in its death before turning into black mist and dissipating away, leaving no trace of its existence.

The accidentally invoked ‘leaching spell’ was complete.

* * *

Harry reached his dorm, he didn’t bother removing his footwear or his uniform, he simply pulled the hangings on his bed close for privacy and crawled under the sheets. He was not feeling well. The detention with Snape had been horrible, and he had to endure another three days with that dungeon bat. When he had woken up in the dark closet, Skeeter was nowhere to be found. He was fully clothed and there were no signs of anything that had happened in there.

He had lost his virginity to an older woman who was much older than even what his parents would have been if they had been alive. He didn’t know how to feel about that. A part of him felt sick, helpless and weak. He had been so weak to quickly give-in to the woman’s seduction. The gravity of what had happened to him didn’t sink in until he had reached the common room. While another unappreciated part of him wanted to rejoice that he had experienced sex.

With such conflicting thoughts rattling in his mind, he drifted off to sleep, eyes heavy and feeling the heat of his body. It wasn’t until a quarter past eleven did he wake up feeling very tired. Wasting another forty minutes in bed, tossing and turning, he finally decided that it was too much for him to bear. He dragged himself out of bed and proceeded to the empty common room to go to Madam Pomfrey, only to find Hermione there sitting by the fireplace and doing her homework diligently.

Hermione looked up at him and asked, “Harry?”

Hermione had ten subjects, and among them were difficult ones such as Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. She had been helping him prepare for the tournament, which means, she did her homework late at night to keep up her studies. It brought a pang of deep-seated guilt from within him, he didn’t realise how much he took her for granted until this moment here.

“Hey, Hermione.” Harry said dully, “Are you alright? The curse, Malfoy’s curse, what happened?” He asked. Hermione grinned awkwardly, showing her his teeth, all of which were shrunken back to normal. He smiled at that, glad that she was fine.

But then her face turned serious, “Harry, are you alright?” She asked him, her voice filled with a sudden urgency of worry and panic.

“I’m just having a fever, I think.” He said nonchalantly, but Hermione’s expressions of horror worried him, “What?”

She quickly rummaged in her bag and showed him the mirror. He stared at his own reflection and saw it. His face had shrunken, the skin was sticking to his bone, he could see the skull bone. He gulped audibly in horror as he saw his own reflection, he looked hideous.

“We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey, now!” Hermione packed her bag and ran up to her dorm to stash it and then she ran back down to help him up. And then they proceeded out of the tower towards the hospital wing.

It took a few minutes, but they reached the hospital wing’s main doors and Hermione knocked on the door several times while supporting him on her side until Madam Pomfrey opened the door.

“Miss Granger? Mister Potter?” Madam Pomfrey was about to ask them why they were here until her eyes fell on Harry Potter, she quickly ushered him inside and laid him down on one of the beds.

The matron quickly began weaving spells to check him, while Hermione paced worriedly her eyes glued on Harry as she did so. It was then, Professor Minerva McGonagall entered the infirmary with a stern look on her face. Madam Pomfrey had sent one of the portraits to fetch her the deputy headmistress.

Minerva was under the impression that Mr Potter and Ms Granger were caught outside by Poppy, until her eyes fell on Mr Potter on the bed, looking gaunt and barely conscious. The transfiguration professor realised that she may have jumped to conclusions. She quickly turned to her most responsible student, “What has happened Ms Granger?”

“I don’t know, Professor. I was doing my homework in the common room when Harry came downstairs, he was looking to go out of the portrait hole, but when he saw me, he came and sat next to me on the couch. I saw what he looked like and immediately checked his temperature, he was feverish. I immediately brought him here, Professor.”

Minerva gave one of her rare smiles at the girl, “Well done, Ms Granger. Ten points for Gryffindor.”

With that, the Transfiguration professor turned to the matron and asked, “What seems to be the problem, Poppy?”

“Acute Magical exhaustion, Minerva…” Madam Pomfrey replied with a sigh, “…and malnutrition.”

Hermione watched as their head of house frowned at Madam Pomfrey’s words. Madam Pomfrey quickly turned to the young witch and asked, “Did Mr Potter by any chance skip dinner?”

Hermione felt the gaze uncomfortable, “Actually, Madam Pomfrey, I didn’t see Harry for lunch either. He skipped both lunch and dinner.” Poppy muttered something under her breath, while Minerva looked just as annoyed at Harry’s recklessness. And then the treatment began shortly.

* * *

Two days he sat in the hospital wing, bored out of his mind as Hermione was the only one who came to visit him. He appreciated her presence, it was soothing. With Ron still angry at him over his entry into the Tournament, he had no one else to rely himself on but Hermione.

In the meantime, Snape had apparently made his displeasure clear to Madam Pomfrey no less than half a dozen times, that his sudden sickness was some sort of ploy to get out of detention. A vexed Madam Pomfrey had actually curtly told Snape off, or so Hermione had told him. And thankfully after hearing Hermione’s accounts of what happened in the potions class, Professor McGonagall had taken pity on his condition and had cancelled his detention with her prowess as the Deputy Headmistress.

However, it brought about another problem. Ron got no such considerations, and he had ended up attending the detentions alone, and that had caused a row with Hermione. Ron had seemingly yelled at Hermione in front of the entire common room for supporting Harry, he had gone as far as to accuse that he had somehow used his fame to get out of detention.

However, that was not what had his thoughts drifting to. Ever since he woke up the next morning after that awful night, he remembered more and more of Rita Skeeter’s memories, her knowledge, and her instinct. It was weird. Why would he remember that, how could he? What happened during their interview in that closet? It was eating him alive. And he couldn’t divulge it to Hermione or anyone else, it would mean admitting that he had sex with a grown woman.

But the most worrisome part was the constant feeling to go somewhere with a lot of trees and regurgitate his magic. A feeling that he kept in check. He could not fully suppress it, just kept it in check for the moment. When he is released from the hospital wing, he was planning on going and regurgitating his magic.

As he sat there listening to his own thoughts, he failed to notice Hermione walking through the doors of the hospital wing with the prophet in her hands until he saw her standing beside him with a stricken expression on her face.

“What is it, Hermione?” He asked her.

Hermione looked at him sadly, giving him the paper, “Read.” She said as she slumped next to him on the bed.

On the paper was an article, written by Skeeter.

_RITA SKEETER INTERVIEWS HARRY POTTER_

_“I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now... Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it... I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me...” Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school._

“What a load of rubbish!” He dropped the paper in disbelief as he stared off into space. Rita had used him. She had used him! A deep rage emerged from within. He couldn’t even think of words to describe it.

Hermione finally said to him, “Ron, said some things at breakfast.”

_‘Oh, god, Ron.’_ He hadn’t even thought about that, Ron had a crush on Hermione, he couldn’t think of what Ron would think about this article. But then, some of Hermione’s words clicked, a suspicion bloomed within him, “What did he say?”

Hermione looked contemplative for a moment before shaking her head, “Not important.” She muttered, trying to veer off the topic.

His voice turned furious, “What did he say, Hermione?” He asked dangerously.

“Harry, please…let it go.” She looked at him pleadingly.

For a moment he almost allowed himself to calm down before he remembered a memory of Skeeter being ridiculed by a friend who she had forgiven once before. It wasn’t pretty. Learning from the example in the memory, he firmed himself. Being a friend was no excuse to be a prat.

“What did he say, Hermione?” His voice stern, yet calm.

“H-he called me a, a…a slut.” Hermione said it so softly, that he almost missed it.

Rage disappeared as a deep fear and sombre took over, he clasped her shoulder as unshed tears came to his eyes, “I’m so sorry, Hermione. I’m so sorry.” She immediately threw herself into his chest and cried, while he held her, trying to soothe her by rubbing his hands in calming circles on her back.

They didn’t know how long they spent in each other’s company, but soon Madam Pomfrey came and she cleared him to leave. And then he did, along with Hermione beside him.

* * *

As Hermione went to dinner, he slipped under his invisibility cloak and he headed outside to Hagrid’s hut. Once he was there, he headed into the Forbidden Forest and found a nice spot not far from the lake.

Suddenly, he was feeling as if he was right at home, that hooking sensation in the bottom of his stomach seemingly disappeared. And he felt a huge relief. He pulled the cloak off and dropped it beside him and he went on his knees. He opened his mouth and retched. But nothing came out, just air and magic. And then it happened.

His eyes blurred, and his body swelled and a huge pain shot through his body. His clothes tore apart as he expanded. Unimaginable pain. He howled and screamed as his body swelled further and he lost consciousness.

For how long he remained unconscious he did not know, but when he opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong. The entire world was different, it looked different, smelt different, felt different. His sight was different, his breathing was different, his body was different.

He looked down and saw that he had long black feathery legs with sharp curved claws for feet, it reminded him of Hedwig’s legs but much bigger and scarier. And he could feel more than two legs on his body, he looked back and saw that his hind legs were hoofs, his lower body was that of a horse. He had a tail, two large black feathery wings, and he could see his own yellow beak. An image of a hippogriff came to mind. He was a hippogriff.

He panicked for a moment; he couldn’t even think. He just wanted to go back to normal. And then it happened, his body began shrinking and pain shot through his body again. And when he closed and opened his eyes again, he was sprawled on the ground, naked as the day he was born, but back in his human form.

Harry sat up, using his invisibility cloak to cover himself. A mind-boggling revelation settled in; he was an animagus.

* * *


	2. Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer- I don’t own Harry Potter, JKR does, but I sure wish I did…  
> 4th year AU... Starts with Rita Skeeter’s interview. Smut. Harry/Multi… BAMF Harry Potter, or rather Harry eventually becomes a BAMF. Animagus Harry…

* * *

_‘Hermione, I’d like to show you something.’_ Harry had said to her when she had found him reading a book about Magical creatures in the library without his glasses.

Too many things were wrong. Firstly, Harry was reading without his glasses on his nose which was odd and amazing considering how he had very poor eyesight. Secondly, he was reading about Hippogriffs, which made her more curious since it wasn’t in their syllabus this year. Thirdly, Harry was reading in the library without her, usually, she was the one who often had to drag him to her sacred temple of knowledge. So, when she had made her doubts clear, she was expecting many things, but not this.

Harry had led her to an unused classroom. In front of her stood Harry, or rather Hippogriff Harry. When Harry had started removing his clothes, making her blush, until he seriously stared at her for a moment and told her to turn around, and when she did, he transformed into a Hippogriff.

After the initial shock, she went forward and touched Harry’s feathery head. The black feathers were smooth and silky, she liked to run her hair through them. Seeing with her eyes, she still couldn’t believe it. Harry was an animagus, he had completed his training and he had become an Animagus. And she knew how difficult the process was. When had Harry found the time to do it, and why had he kept it from her?

“Can you change back?” She asked with an uncharacteristic giggle that escaped through her lips as Harry rubbed his feathery eagle-head against the side of her neck where she was ticklish.

Harry used his eagle-like head to bump her side to turn her around and she did, whenever she tried to look, he turned her around. She stood there and heard the shuffling noise behind him, and then she heard him say, “You can turn.”

She turned eagerly and instantly blushed hard when she saw him standing there in just his trousers. He continued buttoning his shirt and started wearing his socks and shoe, and his robes. She waited patiently until he was done.

Hermione couldn’t help her eyes wandering and admiring his body, Harry had little to no fat, his stomach was thin and taut, she could, in fact, see the trace of his ribs. His shoulders were adequately broad, but his hips were too narrow, muscles were defined enough to see but not too tense or visible, his overall structure was very appealing. She was thankful that it took him some time to get dressed because she sorely needed a few minutes to fight her blush back down.

“When did you start your Animagus training, Harry?!” She asked excitedly.

Harry had no idea what to say to that. He clearly didn’t train for this Animagus ability. He had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with Skeeter. From her memories, he knew that the woman was an animagus herself. It was no coincidence that on the day he had sex with her, he fell ill, and two days later he was retching on the forest floor and turning into a Hippogriff. It was as if he somehow learned it from her, but he had no idea why or how. No book in the library even mentioned such a thing to be possible.

Telling the truth was not something he wanted, at least in this case, so he lied, “I…trained, I mean, I-uh, began training last year after we found out about my father, Sirius and Pettigrew. I thought it would…it would honour him if I learned how to do it just as he did.” Hermione gave him a look that he couldn’t quite place, but she nodded in the end.

“But this is advanced magic, Harry. Only someone with OWL level skill in Transfiguration, Charms and Potions usually even attempt to learn it, and even then, it’s very dangerous. You never told me or asked for my help. Did Ron know?” Her voice grew quieter by the end, she asked feeling a little hurt.

Feeling the hurt in her voice, he lied to ease her, “No. Ron didn’t know.” It wasn’t technically a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either, “I felt like it was something that I had to do on my own. You know, familial requirement.” He chuckled, but she frowned, yet gave him a reluctant nod of acceptance.

“Come on, let’s tell Professor McGonagall.” She grabbed his arm and pulled enthusiastically.

“No. I mean, should we tell her? Can’t we just keep this a secret?” Harry groaned as he asked desperately.

“No. No. No!” Hermione grabbed his shirt and shook him, “You’re not keeping this a secret. It’s illegal to be an unregistered animagus. I don’t want to worry over another reckless stunt you’re planning to pull. It’s bad enough that I have a heart attack every time you play Quidditch! Do you understand, Harry James?!”

“Okay.” Harry complied in a high voice without a fight, frightened by Hermione Jane Granger’s passionate temper, _‘God, I’m whipped!’_

* * *

Harry was distracted. In the end, he had managed to put off telling McGonagall about his animagus ability for a week, mostly just by avoiding her after classes, only turning up in front of her at the end of the day, when she is too tired to drag him.

During the week, he accomplished many things. One, he learned about his first task being a dragon. He passed the information along to Cedric, who should have been the only champion of Hogwarts.

He finally had a strategy to fight against the dragon. He could use the summoning charm to summon his Firebolt and then try to outmanoeuvre the dragon. Thankfully, due to Skeeter’s skills at charms, he knew the spell and he already mastered it with ease. He still had no idea what they would ask him to do against the dragon, but he was choosing to trust in Hermione’s words. Hermione was sure that they would not ask him to fight the dragon and defeat it. Whatever it was, the whole thing had him on the edge.

Ron was another problem. Ron had refused to apologize to Hermione. He knew that he had never stood up for Hermione against Ron’s taunts and insensitive comments before, and it made him feel guilty. And that’s why when Ron had refused, it had hit him harder than he thought it would.

The only reason he wanted to repair their friendship was that he missed just sitting and relaxing with Ron, talking about Quidditch. But that was no more, he had secretly talked to Sirius via the floo yesterday and he took Sirius’s advice. Anyone who could not respect him was no true friend.

Sirius had given him an example. When Professor Lupin had struggled with his ‘condition’, Sirius, his father and Pettigrew had learned how to become Animagus, just so they could keep him company during full moon nights. _That_ was friendship. On a closer look, he realised that even after three years, his friendship with Ron was not anything even close to resembling that. His friendship with Hermione was much stronger than that. He didn’t want to think about that anymore, it hurt.

Harry’s thoughts were broken when Hermione knocked on the door in front of them. That’s when he realised that they had reached their destination.

“Come in.” Professor McGonagall’s words opened the door.

When they entered, the transfiguration professor gave them a scrutinising look and gestured for them to take their seats. She offered them some biscuits, he wanted one but seeing Hermione decline it, he did too, although seeing him give it a longing glance made McGonagall shake her head in amusement at him.

“So, what brings you here, Ms Granger, Mr Potter?”

Hermione gave him a look, “Harry here has something to tell you, professor.”

Harry gulped a little before summoning the courage to tell her, “Professor, I’ve mastered the Animagus transformation.”

McGonagall’s eyes turned sharp, almost cutting, “You’ve what?” Her voice on the other hand was the complete opposite, remarkably calm.

Now he gulped harder, “I’ve mastered the animagus transformation.” He repeated.

Minerva stared at him sharper and then turned to Hermione who fidgeted under the professor’s gaze, as if on cue, Hermione began, “Harry, felt like he should learn it, professor. And he’s successfully achieved it. There’s no harm.”

“There’s no harm?!” The transfiguration professor snapped, “The process is very dangerous and time-consuming. A single mistake in brewing the potion would have led to Mr Potter being sick or incurably transformed in some half-animal state. That’s why it’s always done under the supervision of an expert.”

And that’s when it dawned on the head of house Gryffindor, “Is that what the mystery fever was that Poppy was so concerned about?”

Harry shook his head at her lying to her, while Hermione glared at him and then nodded at the professor, “Yes. It would seem so, Professor.” Causing McGonagall’s lips to thin and gaze at Hermione for no reason.

Seeing Minerva’s disapproving gaze on Hermione, he jumped in, “Professor, it’s not her fault. I did it alone. Kept the mandrake leaf in the mouth alone, I brewed the potions alone and cast the spells alone. She didn’t know until I showed her my animagus form.”

Minerva looked pacified for a brief moment before her eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Wait a minute. I don’t recall experiencing a thunderstorm recently. How did you transform without it?”

Harry fidgeted harshly, as Hermione too turned to him, looking curious, “I-I may h-have snuck out of the school to Hogsmeade and used the floo.”

“You snuck out of school?!” Hermione snapped at him looking furious.

Seeing Hermione’s panicked gaze and McGonagall’s unforgiving gaze, he explained, “If I were to wait, I’d have had to wait until next summer. I needed a win. It’s bad enough that I’m in this tournament, bad enough that we’ve lost Ron. The entire school believes that I entered my name into the stupid cup for glory. Reporters are writing who knows what about me, making it worse. I needed something to feel good about myself.”

Hermione slumped sadly, while Minerva sighed, “And is recklessly risking your health on a dangerous procedure supposed to be a ‘win’? Contrary to what you may think, Mr Potter, the staff are here to help you. You could have approached us, and-”

“And tell you what, professor?”

Minerva’s eyes narrowed, “Tell us that you require our assistance in your-”

Harry snorted interrupting the professor rudely, and asked mockingly, “I should have told Snape.”

“Professor Snape!” Minerva corrected him warningly.

Harry wasn’t the least bit deterred by her tone, “Yes, him. We have a staff here who is a grown man bullying the children regularly, who is exceedingly partial towards Slytherin, docks point from Gryffindors as if it is his life’s only sole purpose. And what has the headmaster done about it? Nothing. Professor, you’re asking me to go to someone like him for help, which is absurd, why would I ever do that?”

His memory went to Snape looking at Hermione’s teeth due to Malfoy’s curse and saying _‘I see no difference’_ , making Hermione cry as she ran to the hospital wing, while he had to sit in class enduring the man’s ire.

Minerva wanted to defend the accusation, but knew that the enraged student had the right of it, she pinched the bridge of her nose, “Regardless of that, he is a professor who has helped this school. And as a student, you must give him the proper respect he deserves. And I believe, he would have helped you despite his personal feelings towards you.”

“Professor, I respect you, because you treat us well, you teach us all equally. The man doesn’t respect me, why should I respect him? I’m not asking him for special treatment, all I’m asking for is a - degree of polite manners. With all due respect, if someone like Severus Snape had worked in a primary school in the normal world, he would have been sacked the very first day. The headmaster isn’t keeping him here for the sake of the school, he’s here because of something else the headmaster needs.”

“And it’s not your place to question the headmaster, Mr Potter. Tread carefully.” Minerva’s tone was cold and harsh.

“Why not? Even the Prime Minister gets questioned if he commits a crime.” Hermione was staring at the ground, her fingers clutched tightly at her robes as Harry continued, “How many Gryffindors or Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs get accepted into NEWT Potions? Whereas we know that even someone as dim-witted as Malfoy or Goyle or Crabbe are more likely to make it into NEWT potions than us, just because they are in Slytherin.”

“I agree with him, professor.” Hermione gathered her courage and said softly yet clearly.

Minerva stared at the two children, she decided a different approach, she sighed and said softly, “I understand that it’s frustrating to endure Professor Snape, but I ask of you to trust in the headmaster’s judgement. Besides, your personal feelings towards a single teacher are no reason to refrain from asking for help from the rest of us. Believe it or not, as an animagus myself, I understand the risks and I would have helped you.”

Neither Harry nor Hermione had anything to say to that. The head of house Gryffindor turned to a fuming Harry and said, “Mr Potter, what you did was reckless. Leaving the safety of the school just to find a thunderstorm in some other part of the country while completely unattended is dangerous. If you had come to me, I would have gladly taken you myself. Regardless of that…, (sigh) you’ve succeeded, and it’s an achievement, I’d like to see your form.”

Hermione at long last smiled at that, while Harry’s grimace disappeared entirely, the professor wasn’t punishing them, merely helping them, it was a good sign, “Yes, Professor.” Harry said as he stood up.

And that’s when he realised, “Um, professor, I haven’t mastered the conjuring clothes part yet. Is there somewhere I can remove my clothes?”

“Perhaps the office is not a good place to transform. Let’s go to the nearby classroom.” Minerva said as she stood up and led the children out with her.

Hermione and McGonagall waited outside the classroom pacing as Harry transformed inside. And then there was a thud on the door. Taking that as a sign, Minerva opened the door and came face to face with a black-feathered, black-skinned Hippogriff.

“Good heavens!” Minerva gasped, “A magical creature as an animagus?”

Minerva admired the creature’s form for a few minutes, “How extraordinary!”

Minerva McGonagall as a master in Transfiguration kept track of the debates that went on about animagus forms being possible magical creatures. The texts and examples the community had about the possible magical creature being an animagus form was too old and frankly unreliable. But this development put all that debate to rest.

Harry’s Hippogriff form had the body, hind legs, and tail of a black-coated horse, but the front legs, wings, and the head of a giant black-feathered eagle, with yellowish steel-coloured beaks and large, brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly.

Hermione watched the professor’s shock with pride. Minerva gave Hermione a look and then nodded to her.

“Revert back, Mr Potter.” The professor ordered as she exited the room for privacy.

Harry reverted into the room and quickly got dressed. Opening the door, he found Hermione waiting for him. She quickly gave him a warm hug and led him back to the office, “I’m so proud of you, Harry.” She whispered as they entered the office, where professor McGonagall had a book open.

“Professor?”

“Yes, Ms Granger, Mr Potter. Come in.” Minerva urged them, and when they were seated, she began, “I must say, I was quite surprised. A magical creature as an animagus, it’s not unheard of, but very rare. However, all examples remain in the past, distant past, in the old historical records, which can be inaccurate, hence it is still a hotly debated topic. This will put an end to the debate that an animagus form can be a magical creature.”

Harry and Hermione both nodded eagerly, “Professor. I have a question.”

Minerva gave Hermione a nod to go on, “The animagus form represents the witch or wizard’s inner self. And it often coincides with the Patronus, correct?”

The transfiguration professor gave her a rare smile to Hermione and gave a nod, and Hermione continued, “Harry’s Patronus is a stag. And yet, his animagus form is a Hippogriff. Why are they different?”

Now that she mentioned it, he couldn’t help but wonder. His father’s Patronus and animagus form was both Stag, Sirius’s was a black hound. He was the only one with a different Patronus and a different Animagus.

Minerva nodded as it was a valid question, “Patronus functions on a person’s positive emotions, such as happiness, contentment, excitement and love. The form of a person’s corporeal Patronus signifies the inner good of the wizard or the witch who is using it. The animal is merely to represent how good a wizard or a witch can be, and the characteristics of the wizard’s capacity to do good. However, an animagus form is different in the way that it does not specify the light alone, it takes on the darkness as well. Mr Potter’s inner strength and good are represented in the form of his Patronus, however, his animagus form encompasses both his good and his evil. And make no mistake Ms Granger, everyone holds within them a capacity to create evil.”

It made him frown. If what Professor McGonagall was implying was true, then he was more prone to tend towards evil than Sirius or his father was.

Hermione glanced at him, and seeing his thoughtful look, she grabbed his hand and squeezed reassuringly. Minerva who noticed it smiled softly at the two, she turned to young Harry Potter and spoke softly, “Mr Potter, you may believe that you have an affinity towards darkness, but I think it is natural that you do.”

It made his brows furrow in confusion, “There are true horrors in your past, horrors that your classmates can scarcely imagine. The fact that you could create a Patronus strong enough to repel a hundred dementors at only thirteen years of age is proof enough of the good that resides in you. Dwell on that, and not on the evil.” Harry nodded in understanding, but he couldn’t put it behind him. He apparently had a propensity for evil. Thankfully, Hermione’s soothing smile eased him a little.

Before they could continue, McGonagall turned the book towards him, “These are the spells you have to learn to conjure clothes when you destroy them or shrink them down when you transform so that you can enlarge it again when you revert. Unless you master these, you cannot afford to transform at will without much preparation.”

Harry glanced at the spells and nodded as he said, “I already know the spells, professor.” He had Skeeter’s memories of the spells that she’s been using for years, “I just can’t do it wandlessly and non-verbally at that.” He elaborated.

“Ah,” Minerva nodded, “That I cannot help you with. You’ll have to practice it extensively and learn to use it instinctively. That comes with experience. Although, I can guarantee you that now since you’ve mastered the transformation itself, controlling your magic will be far easier. Your body has been on a fundamental level forced to learn how to handle sudden physical change and the magical strain that it accompanies. You may or may not have noticed that your Transfiguration spells would have improved vastly. This is a happy side-effect of the animagus transformation.”

He grinned at that. In other words, he’ll have an easier time learning Transfiguration. Hermione swatted his hand playfully to make him wipe that grin off his face.

And then Hermione wondered something else, she noticed Professor McGonagall’s glasses sitting on her nose. It made her wonder about a question so she raised her hand and when Minerva gave the nod, she asked, “Professor, does the animagus transformation permanently affect your body?”

“No, Ms Granger. The transformation is completely in the control of the user.” Minerva looked on in confusion at the bright witch’s mundane question.

Hermione shook her head negatively, “I mean, professor. Does the transformation affect the body when he or she is not transformed?”

Minerva looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking her heads, “No, Ms Granger, it does not. Why do you ask?”

Hermione furrowed her brows and replied, “Harry’s eyesight has been corrected ever since the transformation.”

Hearing Hermione’s words, he nodded and then chimed in, “Not just that, professor, I can see far clearer than ever before. At night, during the day, even things from afar. I could sit at the end of the great hall and till clearly describe your goblet at the staff table to great detail.” Hermione’s eyes widened at that, and Minerva looked intrigued herself, “Also, I’ve been wanting to eat red meat, a lot. Sometimes, when I’m hungry, I can even smell the meat in the nearby vicinity and tell exactly where it is.”

“Hmm…” The transfiguration professor hummed. Her fingers on her chin, looking thoughtfully, “I do not know, Mr Potter. This is unusual. I myself can turn into a cat at will, and I have the vision and the nose of a cat when transformed, but I certainly wear my own spectacles despite that and I do not crave milk or have such a nose when I’m normal. Moreover, the mystery illness does not make much sense either, I have never heard of an animagus falling ill that badly after their first transformation. Madam Pomfrey did mention that you were magically drained, it may be because of the Hippogriff being a magical creature instead of a normal one.”

“We’re traversing through uncharted magic. In any case, I’ll be most thrilled to take you to an International Symposium of Animagi in Sweden next June. I’ll consult with the headmaster about this.” Minerva was certainly pleased that she had one of her students learning animagus transformation on their own and that student was the first known magical creature animagus in a long while.

“Can I come?” Hermione asked them, but then squeaked in embarrassment when she realised that she had asked that aloud.

Harry looked at her and then grinned, “Can she come with us, professor?”

“Do not worry, Ms Granger, Mr Potter. When we record Mr Potter as a known animagus in the Ministry’s Animagus Registry and _specify_ that your form is a Hippogriff. You’ll be hounded by requests to participate in the Symposium. Once invited, the wizard or the witch can bring their dates and even their families.”

At the mention of the date, both Hermione and Harry blushed simultaneously, making Minerva almost roll her eyes slightly at the two clueless kids in front of her.

Hermione quickly added, “Professor, Harry has something else to tell you too.” Harry gave her a curious look and she whispered to him.

“Now?” He asked her, “We can broach that later.”

“The sooner the better,” Hermione said definitively.

Hermione looked at him and gave him a reassuring nod, so he sighed and looked at their head of the house and stated clearly, “Professor, I want to drop Divinations and take Arithmancy instead.”

McGonagall gave him a long stare before turning her gaze towards Hermione and then back at him, “What brought this on Mr Potter?”

“The Triwizard tournament and my upcoming task. I’m woefully unprepared for all of this, professor. Despite my adventurous life at school, I’ve been neglecting my studies. I need to make a change. Hermione says that if I put in my full effort, then I can be a good student. And I believe her.”

Minerva McGonagall was not very often impressed, but today she was impressed, not that she showed it in the least. She had always thought that the boy had Lily Potter’s potential and James Potter’s instinct, a perfect blend of greatness.

“You’ll be a year behind your peers Mr Potter. I do not think that this is a wise move.”

Hermione began at this point, “Professor, without Quidditch, Harry has promised me that he would put in more effort in studies. And from what we have learned so far, Harry has a natural talent for Arithmancy and he is good at math. I’ve also encouraged him to think of his career after Hogwarts, and he has agreed to think about it.”

Hermione fished out a piece of parchment from her bag and handed it to McGonagall, “This professor is a test that I gave Harry on basic Arithmancy this afternoon. He has got a perfect score, I graded it myself. And I’m willing to help him catch up to our current syllabus professor. I think Harry will do well in Arithmancy class.”

Minerva smiled at the girl. She had all the traits of being a prefect, she was certainly recommending the girl to be the fifth-year prefect next year. And she trusted Ms Granger not to cheat on Mr Potter’s behalf, the girl was such a follower of rules, it went against her core beliefs. The fact that Ms Granger was here pushing Mr Potter to reveal his animagus form when they easily could have hidden it was proof enough of her ethics. Minerva took a look at the test; and found that it was indeed a perfect score. She took her wand and placed it on the parchment, casting a non-verbal spell to reveal secrets (Revelio), and there was none, meaning that there was no foul play involved.

Harry had agreed to this because thanks to Skeeter’s memories, he had NEWT level knowledge on Ancient Runes and Arithmancy since Skeeter had an Exceed Expectations in Arithmancy and an Acceptable in Ancient Runes, which would make his classes far easier to keep up. Although it made him feel guilty that he hadn’t earned the knowledge, he didn’t see the point in not using it.

The transfiguration professor gave a nod, “I’ll pass this along to Professor Vector, as it is ultimately her decision to allow students to take her class. She will let you know her decision in a few days. Honestly, do not get your hopes up much, knowing Professor Vector, she would most likely choose not to accept.”

Hermione looked a little put out at that, while he simply shrugged.

“Thank you, professor.” Hermione stood up with a determined smile.

“Thank you, professor.” He quickly followed suit.

With that, they stood up to leave. Professor McGonagall then interrupted him, “Mr Potter, next time, you find yourself in need of assistance do not hesitate to contact a teacher. And no more excursions outside the castle. I’ll be speaking to the headmaster about this breach. This is your one and only warning. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Off you go.”

And they left the office and went to dinner, but he was not feeling hungry. So, he decided to head back to the dorms to rest, he still had potions to take for the night, health potions for the night as per Madam Pomfrey. Madam Pomfrey had warned him that the potions would lessen his appetite.

“Hermione, I’m not feeling hungry, I’m heading back to the dorms. You go have dinner.” He said to her.

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, “I found the location of the kitchens from the twins, I’m going there. I have something I need to confirm. Do you want to come?” She asked him hopefully.

Harry didn’t think, simply shrugged, “I’ll go.” With that, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek and turned on her heels hurrying away pulling him by the hand along with her.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I’m setting up Harry/Hermione, although Harry remains a bit oblivious at least for a while. I have a few other pairings in mind, but it will primarily be Harmony. I hope you’ll like the story. Reviews are appreciated.


	3. First Task

* * *

**_November 24 th-_ **

Harry was pacing back and forth nervously. And he was not alone, Krum, Cedric and Fleur were all much the same. He remembered McGonagall’s warning, to keep a calm head in the face of danger and the heat of battle. It was good advice, but practising it was hard.

“Psst…” He heard it, “Psst…” Harry went to the back of the tent where he stood by and asked.

“Who is it?” He asked already having a clue to who it was.

“Harry?” The feminine voice confirmed his suspicion.

“Hermione?”

The fabric that separated them moved in an instant and Hermione was in his arms, burying her face into him. “Harry, I’m so scared.” She whispered to him.

And he found himself melting for reasons he couldn’t quite place, his hug grew stronger, “I’ll be fine.” He muttered back to her reassuringly.

And then there was a flash of light, and they separated. He instinctively took a step forward and pulled Hermione behind him almost hiding her. Another flash of camera light followed, capturing the image of Hermione standing half-behind him, clutching his right arm as he stood protectively.

Harry’s eyes met Skeeter’s and her greedy grin shrank. Rita suddenly looked unsure, but said it nonetheless, “Ah, young love!”

“Leave!” Harry growled at the woman surprising Hermione who clutched tighter as if to restrain him.

That’s when Bagman entered the tent and noticed Skeeter and her cameraman, his eyes narrowed as he nearly shouted in outrage, “You’re not allowed to be here!”

“Yes, yes…” Skeeter ushered her cameraman out with her as she left.

Once the woman left, Dumbledore entered the tent along with the judges. Headmaster’s twinkling eyes fell on him and Hermione, and then it trained on Hermione, “Ms Granger, I believe you’ll find the stands much more comfortable.”

Hermione quickly nodded, “Harry, be careful.” She whispered before she left kissing him on his cheek.

“I will.” He muttered back.

“Well, now we're all here - time to fill you in!” Ludo Bagman said brightly.

“When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag,” Bagman held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them, “…from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too…ah, yes…your task is to collect the golden egg!”

Harry glanced around. Cedric had nodded once, to show that he understood Bag man's words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Fleur Delacour and Krum hadn't reacted at all. With that, Bagman and all the judges left.

Harry blocked out all the noise around him, Cedric tapping his feet constantly on the ground, Fleur twirling her wand while absentmindedly staring off into space, Krum taking deep breaths, practising some sort of calming exercise.

Time passed him by in complete silence as he paced back and forth. His nervousness ebbed away as he grew more and more focused. Ever since his animagus transformation, he could focus on anything within an instant at will, his retention had also improved. Almost as if some sort of mental block had fallen away, something he hadn’t even known to have existed.

Finally, he heard Bagman opening the purple silk bag and said, “Ladies first.”

Fleur walked up and put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon - a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck.

Bagman said with an excited grin, “Ah, the Welsh Green dragon.”

The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. Krum didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground.

“Ooh, the Chinese Fireball.”

Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-grey Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck.

“The Swedish Short-Snout for Mr Diggory.”

Knowing what was left, Harry put his hand into the silk bag and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, and the number four on it. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs at him.

“And the Hungarian Horntail for Mr Potter.”

“Well, there you are!” Bagman said, “You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right?”

When Cedric gave a nod, Bagman grinned and said, “Good luck to you all, champions!” And then left the tent.

* * *

It was much worse than he thought it would be. After hearing Cedric’s time with the dragon and Bagman’s commentary, he felt worse. Not wishing to feel like this, he muted the world around him and focused on the spells that he would use against his dragon. He repeated them in his mind, and when that got boring, he repeated them reverse, and that became tedious, he repeated them in Parseltongue to make it more challenging. And when that got boring, he said the spells in reverse in Parseltongue.

Ever since, his time with Skeeter in that broom cupboard, he’d been thinking of Parseltongue and its applications in magic. In reality, it was one of Skeeter’s theories that he had stolen. Skeeter was not a fighter, she knew many spells, hexes and jinxes and curses, but she had no real talent in martial magic. The woman was more suited to be a spy than anything else.

Finally, reality dawned on him when he realised that he was the only one in the tent. Bagman’s commentary was followed by a huge round of applause, its signified Krum’s victory.

He stood up, noticing dimly that his legs seemed to be affected as hit by a Jelly-Legs Jinx. He waited. And then he heard the whistle blow. He walked out through the entrance of the tent, the panic rising into a crescendo inside him. And then he was walking past the trees, through a gap in the enclosure fence.

He saw everything in front of him as though it was a very highly coloured dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands that had been magicked there since he'd last stood on this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half- furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, heaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, he didn't know or care. It was time to do what he had to do…to focus his mind, entirely and absolutely, upon the thing that was his only chance.

He raised his hand above and said, “Accio Firebolt!” Aiming for the Firebolt that he had left in his room, arranged on a table against the open window.

It took a few minutes, but then he heard it, speeding through the air behind him; he turned and saw his Firebolt hurtling towards him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in mid-air beside him, waiting for him to mount. The crowd was making even more noise.…Bagman was shouting something…but Harry's ears were not working properly anymore…listening wasn't important.…

He swung his leg over the broom and rested his feet against the metal bipods and he shot off the ground at an astonishing speed. Twenty seconds later he was in the sky, where the dragon looked like a little dog. In the air, he felt right at home. His worries and his fear melting away, his focus at the centre of his forehead.

_“Let’s go.”_ He said to himself in his mind, as he dived, his eyes on the dragon.

A jet of fire flew below him, and he pulled from the dive in time and he swerved, spinning thrice and circled the dragon again, firing a Stunner. Bagman’s commentary echoed, “Great Scott, he can fly!”

His eyes fell on the clutch of eggs, he needed to lure the dragon out to get the eggs. And he knew how to do that. It took him a moment to make up his mind. He raised his right hand and aimed it at the dragon as he circled it again, “Confringo!”

A fiery orange ball of flame reached the dragon, landing on its leathery black wing, making it scream in pain. The Horntail’s spiky tail came whipping up to meet him in his path. He spun upside down and dove down before righting himself. He felt a jerk, but the speed of his movements kept him going. He felt a sting on his left shoulder, and he looked down to see blood oozing out and his red robe missing. He turned back to see that his Gryffindor red Quidditch robe was stuck to the spiky tail. He shook his head as he focused again.

Another flame burst came, this time he climbed up in the air and the beam of fire shifted in his direction, narrowly missing him. Twenty seconds of constant fire as he flew higher and higher to avoid it, swerving and spinning against the heat.

And just when the fire stopped, he dove again, aiming his wand at the Horntail’s head, “Expulso!” A blue light fell down at great speeds landing on the dragon’s head, an explosion on contact, and a whiplash of dust in all directions, sending the Horntail’s head whipping downwards.

The Horntail roared and unveiled its black wings, stretching it to full length. He could hear the collective gasps of the entire school. The dragon reared once and shot off the ground at great speed, the chain on its neck doing nothing to stop it as it broke through it in one tug and flew into the air.

Bagman was saying something, he didn’t even pay attention to it. The entire school was screaming, but his eyes were on the dragon flying towards him. He never knew that a dragon could fly that fast, he felt stupid for luring it out into the sky. “GROOORW…!!!” The Horntail’s mouth opened wide and the flames erupted, breaking him out of his stupor.

Barely out of his shock, he shot off, climbing up in the sky. The Horntail hot on his tail. It was a clear day, there was no way he could hide in the clouds, he swerved sideways and flew towards the school. The Horntail flapped its wings furiously following him. He needed to keep at least forty feet distance between him and the dragon to avoid its flame burst, but the Horntail was too fast, right behind him.

His eyes landed on the wooden bridge, and a plan appeared in his mind, he spun twice adjusting his flight path and flew towards the bridge, he turned his head and yelled, “COME ON!”

He sped up, going under the bridge, twisting sideways at the last moment and fitting through the wooden beams. He smirked knowing that the Horntail would crash into it. He turned again to witness the crash, but his smirk disappeared when the dragon flew right through the wooden beams as though they were made out of straw.

“Bollocks!” He cursed under his breath and sped again, swerving against the rocks and the trees to avoid the occasional jet of flames.

Harry committed his Firebolt into a steep incline, luring the dragon into the sky. Every time the Horntail shot a jet of flame, there was a high-pitch yawning noise of it inhaling large amounts of air before. And every time he heard that noise, he waited a moment before immediately changing directions avoiding the fire.

From the air, he could see the enclosure. He looked back to check if the dragon was on his tail. A risky plan came to his mind, but from where he was flying, he couldn’t see another choice.

“Time to dive.” He muttered to himself as he dived down towards the enclosure, the Horntail following him.

High-pitch yawning came to life behind him and he knew what was next, he half-turned aiming his wand at the dragon, _“Say it.”_ A voice in his mind echoed, “Sisheisath…!” He hissed the Confundus Charm in Parseltongue. The spell connected, confounding the dragon as he went for the kill.

He swerved again, and the Horntail caught up to him and dove along with him. In free fall, he hissed, “Shisu…sasien…” the fire-making spell in Parseltongue, casting a jet of yellow flames just as the Horntail fired the largest flame burst intent on frying him. Both the beams of fires connected in mid-air fighting for dominance.

The Horntail’s fire was bigger, and it quickly dwarfed his own, “Engorgio!” In a split-second, his chain spell enlarged his fire and offsetting the imbalance, the two opposing flames fought for dominance.

Harry glanced forward just in the nick of time to see the ground approaching fast. The Horntail was blinded by the battling flames, this was his one opportunity. As his right hand remained occupied, he tightened the grip of his left hand, clutching against the wood of the Firebolt and he heaved it in a pull with all his strength, “ARGH!!!”

Just two feet from the ground, he managed to right his dive and he sped parallel to the rocky floor of the enclosure, dropping his fire-making spell as he clutched against the broom and navigated against the treacherously dangerous rocks.

The fire blinded Horntail didn’t realise the danger until the last moment, crashing against the rocks as fire spread in all directions. Fire engulfed him faster than he could fly away. He felt the heat burning his skin, his hair burning and his eyes closing against the heat.

The entire stadium full of students watched in halted breath and roared in loud approval when he raced out of the fire and smoke. But the danger was not out of the way yet. The Horntail’s large body cartwheeled thrice against the enclosure’s stony floor. Debris of half-melted stone exploded violently with each cartwheel, sending it flying in all directions. A hot stone the size of a tangerine impacted on his back, on his right shoulder blade, making him yelp out in pain and wince as the stone burned through his jumper and his skin beneath, leaving a nasty wound on his body.

He adjusted his Firebolt in the nick of time to commit to another climb to avoid the ricocheting debris of heated rock and stone. A mistake that he would look back on. Before he could climb very high, a large hot rock, the size of a plate, flew into his centre. Right into the wood of his Firebolt, breaking it in half, mangling two of his fingers, and impacting his stomach, knocking him unconscious.

The staffs and student all stood up in shock, as he fell from about sixty feet in the air, his wand falling away, his Firebolt in two pieces. Dumbledore raised his arm to stop his fall, but the pain awoke him as he fell.

Half-conscious, on instinct, his magic discharged. His trousers and jumper all were shredded apart as his body expanded and he transformed into a Hippogriff and glided down to the floor, flapping his wings a few times. His hoofs touched the ground first and then the front legs, and the creature trotted forward, folding its wings.

The entire stadium watched in pin-drop silence as they watched his injured animagus form. Harry’s pain made him revert back, he turned back effortlessly, wandlessly and non-verbally conjuring his clothes, but still not adept at such advanced magic especially in his battered state, he only managed to conjure his shoes, socks and his trousers, leaving his chest bare and bleeding.

There was a deep cut on his left shoulder, the ring and little fingers on his left hand mangled and bleeding, a round bleeding contusion on his bare stomach, his skin on the back of his right shoulder was peeled away, a small cut on the side of his neck.

He turned towards the dragon lying on the ground, unconscious and bleeding, it's left-wing torn in half from the crash. Thirty or so Dragonologists already in the field, tending to the dragon. He turned again, hurriedly walking towards the eggs, stumbling along like a drunk. The entire world was spinning around him, he couldn’t think or see or hear.

Three feet away from the clutch of eggs, he stopped in his tracks, he felt a deep sting inside his head, between his eyes. He felt something liquid dripping on his chest, he put the back of his hand on his nose and saw the blood, the coppery smell and taste registering in his mind. He looked around, ashamed that they were seeing him this vulnerable, but he couldn’t see anything.

The world began spinning uncontrollably as it grew darker and darker before it finally ceased to exist.

* * *

He opened his eyes with a groan, immediately sitting up on his bed, only to be pushed back down. His eyes focused on Madam Pomfrey. He once again tried to sit up, but she pushed him down again, “Get back down, Potter!” She snapped at him.

He turned his head, his eyes landing on Hermione, Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody and Cedric, all of whom were watching him with various expressions. Hermione was sobbing, Professor McGonagall looked pale, Cedric looked like he would throw up, Professor Moody looked proud, and Madam Pomfrey kept muttering curses under her breath as he healed him up.

“Last year dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next?” He could hear her mutter, it almost made him chuckle. That’s when his eyes landed on his stomach, and he saw the large wound still bleeding, which explained the looks.

His eyes landed on Hermione, there were fingernail marks on her face, as though she had been clutching it in fear. And then he saw the broken Firebolt in Moody’s hands. That thing had saved his life, but now it was gone. Strangely, he wasn’t angry or sad. He felt glad that he was alive than angry at the loss of his broom.

“Diggory?” Madam Pomfrey noticed the other champion and hissed, “Get back to your bed!” Cedric nearly bolted fearing the wrath of the terrifying school nurse.

Moody brushed past McGonagall and put two pieces of his Firebolt by the table, and said in a gruff voice, “Nice work, Potter.” Madam Pomfrey glared at the ex-auror, and the man walked away.

He laid in the bed for the next half hour while Madam Pomfrey cleaned his wounds, dabbed it with a purple potion that had a nasty sting and then wrapped all of his wounds with the poultice. She gave him two foul-smelling and even worse tasting potions to drink and he did without question. Drinking it, he immediately felt better. Just as he was about to sit up again, Madam Pomfrey took her wand and pointed it at him threateningly, “Don’t even think about it.” He gulped audibly and smiled sheepishly as he laid back down without a fight.

As soon as Madam Pomfrey left, Hermione nearly tackled him, burying her face into his side, sobbing uncontrollably, “You complete prat, Harry James Potter!”

Professor McGonagall gave them a fond smile, she walked towards his bedside table, placing his wand on it and left them, pulling the curtains close with a wave of her hand as she left them.

“Hey…” Harry tried soothingly, “I’m fine. I’m fine.” He began stroking her hair with his free hand.

Harry had no idea how long they stayed like that before he drifted off, except when he woke up, Madam Pomfrey was staring at him in a mixture of emotions, while Hermione was sitting on his bed blushing furiously.

It took him a moment to catch on, but by then Madam Pomfrey was sighing, “You are tied with Ms Delacour in third place, Potter.” She informed him.

“I’m moving you to the hospital wing.” She said to him, “Drink this.” She gave him a light-green potion and he gulped it down, and immediately fell asleep.

The last thing he heard as he fell asleep was Madam Pomfrey speaking to Hermione, “I suppose it would be cruel to send you away, Ms Granger. Do lend me a hand with this one…”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ‘Baferious’, for the idea of a Hippogriff having a horse cock. I’m not one for bestiality, but if I do consider it, I’ll make sure to use it. I hope you liked this chapter. I wanted the first task to be a bit different. Skeeter is a show-off, Harry has Skeeter’s memories, so he shows-off a bit in this. Firebolt is gone. Harry is injured and he is in third place. What do you think?

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like the first chapter. Review if you enjoyed it.   
> Mostly just smut, with an equal amount of plot. Not friendly to Snape or the Weasleys (Ron, Molly and Ginny, although Ginny could be amended). I always thought that Parseltongue was an underused plot device in the books. What do you think about Hippogriff as an animagus form?


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